


self-reflections

by readingquizzicalcats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Black Family Drama (Harry Potter), Body Dysphoria, Body Image, Body Shaming, Family Drama, Jealousy, Physical Appearance, Scars, Werewolf, lycanthropy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readingquizzicalcats/pseuds/readingquizzicalcats
Summary: The Marauders reflect on their bodies.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew & James Potter
Kudos: 8





	self-reflections

_Remus_

Remus did not like the way he looked. No _ifs_ , _ands_ , or _buts_ about it. Every time he looked in the mirror his body seemed to scream WEREWOLF. Really, he thought, it was a miracle he could pass as human.

The transformations took from his body more than a night’s pain. They drained his complexion, left dark circles under his eyes. He struggled to gain weight; no matter how much he ate his bones stuck out at awkward angles. His lips were perpetually chapped and he exuded an aura of exhaustion. His first grey hair appeared at eighteen.

Then there was the general sense of unwellness about him. He appeared frail, there was no denying that. (Although those who knew him knew he was anything but.) On his first night at Hogwarts James had suggested he see the nurse. And over the next few months he had been a subject of much gawking and pitying gazes from his fellow classmates--one girl had even offered to carry his books, much to his chagrin--until eventually everyone grew accustomed to his sickly appearance. To his roommates it became just one of those things about Hogwarts: the staircases move, Peeves is to be avoided, and Remus always looks ready to keel over. Every time he recovered from the last transformation, the pre-moon symptoms (PMS Sirius liked to joke) began again. It never stopped.

The wolf was insatiable.

But by far the worst were the scars. As a rule Remus wore pants and long sleeves no matter the weather; it was hard to explain away so many injuries. Although the initial bite had left what was by far the biggest and ugliest mark, it was at least covered. No, the scar that gave him the most grief was slashed across his face.

Years later Remus could vividly remember Madam Pomfrey holding up a mirror after that fateful transformation in second year. Remus prided himself on being an easy patient: he never complained, never asked for help unless strictly necessary, and certainly never cried. Yet that day he had buried his face in his pillow and sobbed, unwilling to show his face. At first it wasn’t about vanity, but fear. Fear of adding fuel to his friends’ growing suspicions. Fear of drawing the unwanted attention of his classmates. Fear of the snide--and possibly revealing--comments made by his werewolf-hating defence professor.

And despite his best efforts the smaller scars littering his body couldn’t be hidden so easily. Occasionally a sleeve would ride up or a collar would shift down and eyebrows would raise. Yet that didn’t stop him from trying. He didn’t wade into the lake with the other students, didn’t bathe in the Prefects’ bathroom, and always always always changed behind his curtains or in the dormitory bathroom. When he lost his virginity, he insisted on keeping his shirt on the entire time, afraid of what his partner would think. Even after his friends discovered his condition, he still hid his body except for every month when he was forced to strip before the moon.

No, it wasn’t the way Remus looked that bothered him, but rather what his looks represented. Ailment. Nonconformity. Even in a human body, he could see himself inexplicably tied to the wolf. And he hated wolves.

_Sirius_

Sirius was gorgeous. There was really no other way to put it. He was the epitome of pure blood. Centuries of breeding toward perfection, each Black more striking than the last. He was all steely eyes, strong jaw, and sharp cheekbones. Dark hair, unblemished skin, and perfectly proportioned limbs. Arched eyebrows and long eyelashes. Aristocratic features and an air of confidence. Slim--almost feminine--wrists and shoulders.

Sirius was not rugged--that implies an unevenness about him. Nor was he hot--his appearance wasn’t a stereotypical attractiveness. He was simply beautiful.

From all outward appearances, his physical transformation from child to adult didn’t hold any of the bodily awkwardness it seems every adult can recall, which pissed Remus off to no end.

Mostly Sirius loved his body. However, there was a period after he was disowned when he couldn’t stand to live in his own skin. Every time he looked in the mirror he was assaulted with reminders of the family he loathed. His eyes became downcast while washing his hands. He stopped preening himself each morning. He began to shower in the dark. It wasn’t until James made a joke about Narcissus breaking from his trance and Sirius grew visibly upset that James realized what was going on in his best mate’s head. He was then quick to point out that anything Sirius did contrary to pureblood beliefs would only reflect back on his family. Really, Sirius’s resemblance to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black hurt them more than anyone. Sirius, delighted by this new connection and a sense of revenge, soon regained his old confidence.

Occasionally Sirius worried that people didn’t like him, just his body. He could draw people to him with just a few eye and lip and hair tricks. He attracted the attention of many women and several men. Many of these people didn’t really know Sirius, they only wanted to feel his figure pressed against theirs. Ultimately though, he wanted the same from them. He was never one to settle in a romantic relationship.

He knew where all the people important to him stood though. Remus was jealous. Peter was indifferent. James had once, while drunk, declared him to be “aesthetically pleasing” (which had caused Sirius to burst out laughing) but didn’t seem to care at any rate. Lily grew frustrated with his vanity. Marlene cared for his company but liked to use him for the occasional fuck (and him her). And Regulus looked so similar there was no reason for envy.

Overall, Sirius loved his body, and that just made it a hundred times more breathtaking.

_James_

James liked his body. He wasn’t overly attractive, and he certainly wasn’t gross. He was perfectly average. But it was his body, and James grew to be comfortable in it. He figured if he couldn’t change it, he may as well own it.

Throughout his youth James could be seen strutting the halls of Hogwarts. It wasn’t until Lily told him to “knock it off, you look stupid” in seventh year that he adopted a more modest gait.

On the Quidditch pitch, however, James didn’t have to consider the space he took up. He excelled without ever trying. (That’s not to say he didn’t practice; he most definitely did.) He just knew how to maneuver his body.

He was an athletic all-star, and in case anyone forgot this, he frequently messed up his hair. James thought it looked “windswept”, Sirius thought it looked “like Peter’s nest”. But even before he began fussing with it, it stuck up every which way. The unruliness of his hair was a curse that ran through generations of Potter men. It was what inspired his father’s invention of the infamous Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion that cemented the family fortune. Yet James refused to touch the product because-- _really, dad_ \--his messy hair could only reaffirm his position as star Quidditch player.

The one thing James was at odds with was his eyesight. The moment he removed his glasses the world became a blur and a massive headache ensued. It was a real inconvenience for Quidditch, and in their younger days Sirius always found amusement in taking the frames and bolting. But despite the frustrations that accompanied his vision, James always insisted that his glasses made him look “smart and distinguished”.

James knew he wasn’t a sight to behold, but he also knew the merits of his own body. It could accomplish a lot.

_Peter_

Peter was self-conscious. He didn’t like his weight. Perfect Sirius liked to tease him about his belly, and he was sure he would have been the subject of much bullying from those outside their little group had James not started telling people to lay off.

It wasn’t just his weight that bothered him though. All of Peter’s features--each and every one--was completely, utterly forgettable. He didn’t have Sirius’s striking face, James’s Quidditch abs, or Remus’s unusual eyes. No, he was the type of person whose face people would forget ten minutes after meeting him. 

There was nothing striking about Peter. Nothing memorable. And Peter bitterly thought this reflected his place in life quite well.


End file.
